


Open Hand

by sterlinglee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlinglee/pseuds/sterlinglee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haiba Lev opens his fat mouth, inserts his foot, and spends the rest of the day trying to patch things up with Yaku. Being new to Nekoma means there’s a learning curve not just for blocks, spikes, and receives, but for your teammates. In all things, he is getting there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Hand

“Taketora-san _pleeease_ I’m just asking you to go and tell Yaku-san I’m sorry! I’d do it myself but he didn’t even yell at me this time—he just got this weird look in his eyes, and then he turned around and _left_.” Lev tried to look beseeching, which had never suited him. Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully.

“No way I’m going near him when he’s that pissed, first-year. His hands are so small but they’re like,” he made a vague clawing gesture, “like bear traps, y’know?” He fell silent for a moment, staring into nothing, and shuddered.

“Uh, Taketora-san. Taketora-san, are you—”

“Okay, okay, jeez! You got my attention, Haiba, let go.”

“Sorry.”

“So what’d you do this time anyway?” Yamamoto scrutinized him. “Said he was short, I bet.”

“It’s just pointing things out,” Lev said guiltily. “I don’t get why he has to be that way about it. But this time I also might’ve said it because I was playing keep-away with the ball and he couldn’t reach.”

There was a brief silence.

“And your spine is still—” Yamamoto craned around to look. “I can’t believe he left you standing. I can’t believe I _missed_ it. You’ve been here like two months, how do you expect to live through the year?”

“That’s why I need you to go talk to him for me!” Lev burst out, his patience nearly at an end. “I know his tiny hands can hurt me a lot! I never mean the stuff to come out like it does but it _does_ and now he’s probably gonna make me practice receives with Kuroo-san instead…”

He subsided, realizing several sentences too late that he was going off at an upperclassman. He was the only one who noticed, though. Yamamoto was only a senpai when it suited him, and classed agitated yelling as a normal form of communication anyway.

“As much as I’d like to help you out on this one, I’m kind of in the doghouse with him too,” Yamamoto told him. “You remember—the whole firecracker thing—yeah. Maybe ask Kai-san. He’s known Yaku-san for ages, anyway.”

Lev pushed out his bottom lip, thinking. “Yeah. But—I’ll try Kenma first.”

“Maybe just…go say you’re sorry,” Kenma offered later that day, half an eye still on the colored figures wheeling across his phone screen. “Yaku-san’s a pretty reasonable person. He probably won’t be mad if you’re straightforward with him…or he will be, but secretly he’ll think better of you.”

“You didn’t see his _face_ , though! I keep expecting him to come and kick my spine in.”

“…Did you do something to deserve having your spine broken, then.”

“Well, no, I—” Lev thought of the sheer distance between his outstretched hand and Yaku’s, of the weird intensity that flicked on in the libero’s eyes as he failed to stop himself from rising to grab uselessly at the ball. If you were teammates you messed around and teased and played games—in the moment he hadn’t thought too much about it. Now he was silent for a while.

He became aware of Kenma’s gaze on him, close and considering. Lev faced him, and Kenma turned away. “I don’t think so,” Lev said helplessly. “I was only playing around.”

Kenma tapped at his screen and jumped his little figure into a cluster of floating stars. “Yaku-san’s kind of a serious guy.”

That afternoon, Lev went to Kai. Yamamoto had been one thing, and even Kenma fell within the realm of people who were safe enough to go to for help. But Kai was…different. He never got angry and he was always sort of smiling—you had to be careful with people like that. It was hard to know what they were capable of, and they would never tell you.

In the end, he decided to jump in with both feet. “I really pissed Yaku-san off this time,” he said, and as soon as the words left his mouth he hit upon several hundred far more acceptable phrases for the same idea. He cringed. Kai evened the edge of his chopsticks and laid them down.

“…This wasn’t your lunch period, last I checked,” he said calmly. “The teacher’s coming back soon. If she finds you in a third-year classroom you might be in trouble.”

“Sorry, Kai-san! It’s urgent!” Lev recounted again how Yaku had stormed off under a heavy roiling silence, his mouth set as if he was holding himself back from something. “I want us to be okay at afternoon practice but I think if I go near him he’ll just get madder.”

“Yaku’s really the gentle type,” Kai said thoughtfully, more to himself than anything. “I can’t really imagine he’d do…well, whatever you think he’s going to do.” Lev realized _He’s going to break my knees_ was probably scrawled across his face, and hurried to rearrange his features into something less obvious.

“He’s had a lot in his plate recently,” Kai went on, his tone somehow going even more cautious and tactful than usual. “All of us third-years do, since it’s our last season and all. I’d say he’s probably a little stressed. He doesn’t usually take things that personally.”

“Dead-legging me on the gym stairs isn’t taking it personally?”

“It’s really not.” Kai pushed his chopsticks idly toward the edge of his napkin. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave any lasting marks, so talk to him this afternoon, okay? If you get it all out in the open I’m sure things will work out fine.”

Lev opened his mouth, and shut it again. Kai’s eyes twinkled in faint amusement—he was being humored. “He doesn’t hate you,” Kai said.

Someone cleared their throat, from the region south of Lev’s shoulder. He looked down to see a small, fed-up-looking woman with a severe bun glaring at him. Kai arched his eyebrows. “Sorry, sensei. He was just about to leave.” And then, to Lev, “See you this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Kai-san,” he remembered to say as he backed out the door, guided by the laserlike stare of Kai’s teacher. His elbow banged the side of the doorframe and he winced. Kai’s classmates snickered at him.

He made it to practice early, but there was “early” and then there was “before the third-years.” Kai caught his eye and nodded as he came into the gym. He nodded hastily, embarrassed for some reason he couldn’t name, and before he could stop himself he was scanning the gym for Yaku.

Kuroo was ambling towards the door in anticipation of Kenma’s arrival, which left Yaku doing his warm-up stretches by the back net. He leaned forward to touch his toes, looking diligent and intent and generally embarrassing to people who, through no fault of their own, had naturally dynamic personalities and were no good at sitting still for long periods of time. Lev took a deep breath and went over to him.

Yaku glanced up as he approached, and Kai must have said something to him because the look on his face was hardly readable but did not seem to suggest impending injury. He nodded politely—did he look just a little wary? Lev rocked forward on the balls of his feet, not liking the distance of dead air between them, and sat.

Sitting down, he noticed an old bruise on Yaku’s shin, just below the area protected by his knee guard. Looking at it instead of Yaku’s face, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “So I said some stuff this morning and made you mad, I’m really sorry!” He reddened as he remembered that they weren’t alone in the gym.

Yaku’s mouth slanted to one side, thoughtful and inscrutable still, gears ticking with no tell. Lev’s mind went blank for a second, but a stiff blow to the ribs did not seem to be forthcoming, so he recovered himself and forged ahead.

“I mean, I was messing around but I shouldn’t—shouldn’t have done that. It was mean.” And no, that wasn’t quite right either. He knew what he had to say, but somewhere in between his mouth and his brain it was getting scrambled.

Yaku blinked, and opened his mouth to speak, and Yamamoto’s loud whoop made Lev jump and jerk around to see what was going on. The others had arrived, and Yamamoto and Inuoka were apparently executing some kind of hands-free rally with Shibayama hovering around them for encouragement. When Lev looked back, he saw Yaku watching them with mingled amusement and exasperation.

Now that his manner had changed Lev could tell he had been a little uneasy before. He sat composed and certain, and his place was carved out there among them like he’d been made to keep Nekoma from the ground. Lev saw him and saw the court where he threw himself forward along the shining floor, and the bruises he’d taken as the wages of the game. It was nothing he didn’t see every day.

“What?” Yaku said sharply when he saw Lev staring. He was turning a little pink, caught between the issue at hand and an instinctive but not entirely reasonable desire to march across the gym and put an end to anything that could be referred to as “antics.”

At the sight of him, what Lev had known for some time now fell together suddenly in words. Instead of _Touchy about his height_ Lev thought, _Wants to be better than he is, knows some things are out of his control_.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in a rush. “I was messing around and I didn’t _think_ , and I made fun of you even though I think you’re really cool and uh,” he realized Yaku was staring at him. “It was mean, and I won’t do it again so please don’t say you’re gonna dump me on Kuroo-san ‘cause it’s _you_ I wanna learn from…” Abruptly, his breath ran out.

Yaku sat back, and his small calloused hands flexed where they lay on his knees. His expression turned rueful. Reaching out, he shoved the heel of his hand gently against Lev’s shoulder. It felt a little like an apology.

“Okay,” he said. “This time I’ll let it slide. But don’t think this gets you out of the usual practice.” He smiled wickedly. “Your form’s still awful, you know. If you mess up you’re gonna be doing drills until you hurl.”

“I won’t mess up!” Lev yelped, scrambling to his feet. Yaku rose and there was the requisite twenty-five centimeters between them again, his head at the height of Lev’s breastbone. At some point all the friendly grace Lev admired had flooded back into him. Lev swung his arms up and stretched them and grinned, and followed the libero to the place where the others had gathered.

**Author's Note:**

> is this an early warning symptom of yakulev (even I don't know)


End file.
